


Paths That Your Eyes Wander

by alchemystique



Series: Paths-verse [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3162803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemystique/pseuds/alchemystique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coffee shop AU: Emma meets Killian Jones while using his coffee shop as a cover to meet her bail jumpers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo...every fandom needs a coffee shop au. In fact every fandom needs fifty. Here is my attempt at meeting the quota. (Title is from Landon Pigg's "Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop") Also everything I know about bail bonds I learned from Stephanie Plum novels, so don't take any of my jargon too seriously.

Her date is late. It's not terribly unusual, considering the caliber of her 'dates' in recent months, but the short con is much, much easier than chasing criminals through the dark and dank underbelly of the city, and besides, her more expensive skips tended to be the sort who are slightly more difficult to track down through conventional means.

The coffee shop is the perfect ruse - the high end bar dates are hard to play off without being suspicious, and she'd officially been outed at her old favorite six months ago, so that was out of the question. But the coffee shop is unassuming, quiet but not too quiet, the sort of place criminals automatically felt a little at ease at, looking down their noses at mothers prying their small children with sweets and harried looking students tapping away at their laptops. The coffee shop was the least suspicious place she'd ever used to collar a bail jumper. 

Out of respect to the regulars she'd never actually closed the deal _in_ the shop, but there was a really convenient side exit that backed up into the alley where she parked her car, and more often than not her sleazy, creepy marks took little convincing to join her for a more...private meeting.

The other BEA's who work for Nolan Bail Bonds think she cheats, but she knows what she's good at, and yeah she could probably out-maneuver most of her skips if she needed to, but seducing them is _easier_. And sometimes it's even fun.

"You know, you've really taken the whole idea of getting something _more_ out of a date to a completely different level."

Emma glances up at the familiar voice, darting a quick look to the door to make sure her skip isn't about to witness her melt into a puddle of goo over the owner of the little shop, a man who has _nothing at all_ to do with her new coffee shop preference. At all. 

The Jolly Bean is a quaint little place tucked into the business district of downtown, and despite the Starbucks across the street it's almost always a busy place. That probably has less to do with the atmosphere (or the coffee, even if it is totally better than Starbucks) and more to do with the owner, one Killian Jones. 

Emma isn't a woman easily swayed by a pretty face or a glorious accent, or even both at the same time, but there is _something_ about Jones. Maybe it's the wicked jawline covered in three-day-old stubble, or the way his tongue tucks into his cheek every time he smirks at her and drops another innuendo bomb on her, or the way he seems incapable of wearing a shirt that covers a decent portion of his chest ("My chest hair is allergic to poly-cotton blend, Swan," he'd told her on a grin one morning when she stopped by for a hot chocolate - _to scope the place out for her next skip_ she told herself even as she leaned against the counter and let him flirt at her for a good ten minutes), maybe it's the sadness in his eyes he tries so hard to hide, or maybe it's the fact that underneath the smarm and the swagger he's actually possibly the hugest _dork_ she's ever met.

Either way, it is becoming increasingly difficult for her to keep to her tried and true method of never actually enjoying a man's company for longer than a single night.

"Hello to you too, Jones."

"One of these day's you're actually going to call me by my real name."

"Let me guess, I'll be screaming it for you?"

His grin goes dark and wicked, and he sets down her mug of hot cocoa on the table, tucking his thumb into a belt loop as his eyes dance merrily. "You said it, not me."

Emma's eye roll probably defies the laws of gravity as she grabs at the mug to take her first sip, and for a second all thoughts of stupidly attractive men and stupidly obnoxious criminals goes out the window - _this_ is the reason she keeps coming back. His hot chocolate is _heaven_ , and despite the fact that the asshole totally knows it, she can't quite keep in the praise. She knows he has about fifty different recipes for his hot chocolate - the first day they'd met he'd told her without so much as a how-do-you-do that he had just the drink for her ("I promise if you don't like it I'll make you whatever you wish, on the house."), and damn the man, he'd been _right_ \- creamy, rich hot cocoa topped with homemade whipped cream and a dash of cinnamon, just how she liked it. ("Okay, how the hell did you know about the cinnamon?" she'd asked, and he'd smiled at her like it was the highest praise he'd ever heard. "I have a knack.")

As she sets the mug back down she notices he's gotten new ones, and her brow shoots up at the design - white ceramic sculpted into the approximation of a bird, feathers curling around the mug and the handle shaped into a long, curving neck.

Her face goes bright red as she realizes what she's staring at, and he grins at her, dropping into the seat opposite her. "A swan for a Swan," he says, and Jesus, there is literally zero way this man is actually real. "You're practically a local celebrity for the regulars." 

As if to prove his point one of the undergrads who studies here often waves at them from near the window, smiling before returning to furiously typing. Emma can't decide if she's got a crush on Killian or if she's penning some epic mystery novel starring Emma and the gorgeous coffee shop owner.

"Don't sit down - I have a date to arrest."

"He's late. His loss."

"No, _my_ loss. I need a new computer and this guy is gonna pay for it."

His grin is hard to stay mad at, and Emma sighs as she remembers trying to explain to him after a few weird conversations that she was not, in fact, a prostitute. ("Not that there's anything _wrong_ with such an career choice, I am glad to hear it," he told her then, his eyes doing a weirdly genuine thing that made Emma's skin itch uncomfortably.) "I think you've been stood up, Swan."

"Go away for half an hour and if he doesn't show up I'll let you tell me something really nerdy about long ships, or whatever it is you're into these days."

His expression as he gives her a wide-eyed stare is actually terrifyingly endearing, and Emma sighs to herself. "That sounds suspiciously like a date, Swan."

"Do you really want to tempt the fates by having a date _here_ with _me_?"

He chuckles, leaning forward into her space. "No, but by your lack of denial I'm suddenly much more confident that if I continue to badger you you _will_ eventually agree to go out with me." He stands before she can deny anything of the sort, sauntering away, and god help her, she can't quite keep her eyes off his backside. He's really been blessed in that arena.

Her skip shows up ten minutes later, and she's almost _disappointed_ when he slides into the seat across from her with his greasy smile and his awful smug face, and she pulls out all the stops, ready to be done with the man in a hurry.

She shoots Killian an apologetic look as she ushers Mr. Jerry Gillis out the side door, and his smile is only slightly strained. He waves her off, shaking his head as she goes, and Emma knows she enjoys knocking Jerry into the brick wall a couple of times when he tries to make a run for it just slightly too much to tell herself she is unaffected by Killian.

And she was actually looking forward to hearing about his silly new pirate stories.

\------

She is swamped with cases the next two weeks, all the slimy, low down dirtbags she isn't comfortable taking to the coffee shop, and so she doesn't see Killian at all. She should be thrilled to get some time away from him, and some god damn perspective outside the cozy little coffee shop with it's ship wheels and anchors and stupid netting and the ship-in-a-bottles she knows Killian makes himself, the absolute _dork_ , but instead she feels like there's something missing from her day to day routine.

David pulls her aside after she nabs a skip who'd let his mother leverage her house for bail, sits her down in the back office and stares at her quietly for a long time. When she'd first met David he'd been weirdly invested in her life, and he hasn't gotten any better over time, but she's gotten used to it. It's probably why she stuck around Boston as long as she has - there is something comforting about having someone around who cares for her as much as David does. 

"Mary Margaret and I think you should ask out the pirate guy."

Emma stares at him, dumbstruck, for seconds that drag into minutes. 

"You've been moping around since the last time you saw him, and we think you should buck up and let the guy know he's not alone in being mildly obsessed."

"I am _not_ obsessed," she stammers out, her face bright red, and David smiles. It's easy for him, the idea of putting yourself out there - he and his wife have been together forever, it seems, and they are sickeningly adorable (they'd dressed up as Snow White and Prince Charming for a Halloween party last year and they'd fucking _nailed_ it, and Emma, for all her disbelief in true love and soulmates and all that stupid nonsense, wishes for the kind of relationship they have), and they make it look easy. She knows it hasn't always been easy, they've had their rocky moments, but somehow they always come out of the downs stronger and even more grossly codependent and she _wants_ that, in her heart of hearts, in the secret place she keeps hidden from the rest of the world.

And Killian is _nice_ , sure, but...

But she's been burned before, and spending almost a year in a prison cell for a frame job makes it hard to trust people.

"Sure, you're not. But you've definitely been moping."

She doesn't bother to deny it. 

"And Mary Margaret _may_ have done some sleuthing on that side of town, and she _may_ have mentioned your name to the barista who made her drink, and she _may_ have heard that Killian -."

"David." He sighs, running a hand through Ken-Doll perfect hair. "I know you think I'm not happy, but I am. I don't need a _man_ to make me happy."

"Of course you don't. That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying the kind of guy who thinks letting you use his shop as your go-to date con, and buys swan mugs, and thinks your job is interesting and fun, instead of really weird, is maybe the kind of guy you wouldn't mind having in your life."

Emma ignores the part of her brain that is nodding emphatically along with David's every word, jumping up and down and yelling 'SEE!' as if she's not aware of the idiot man and his stupid, precious actions to get her attention.

She knows, and yeah, she doesn't discourage it, which for her is practically a blazing neon sign of acceptance, but Killian doesn't know that, and maybe she should keep it that way. She's no good at dating, and even worse at relationships, and he doesn't deserve to have her trample all over his heart. He's a good guy. 

"Just...think about it, okay?"

\------

She thinks about it, and then she thinks some more, and then resolves to avoid the coffee shop for a while. It sucks, because she misses the man, with his genuine smiles and his never ending font of pirate lore, and the way he shuffles his feet when the flirting gets a little too serious, but Emma...

Is not ready for that.

Of course, she gets a whole week and a half of avoiding in until a skip comes up that she'll have to use her wiles on. She contemplates using her old bar haunts, but dashes that off the list fairly quickly, casting about desperately for another place before finally giving in to the inevitable.

The day of her 'date', she spends a long time braiding up her hair into an intricate crown before yanking it all back down (Killian always spares a glance for her long hair hanging over one shoulder, not that that has anything to do with her change of mind) and she switches in and out four different shirts before shaking her head and going with the first choice, a soft white sweater worn thin with frequent use, throwing her usual red leather jacket on as she heads out the door, refusing to shoot one final look in the mirror at herself as she goes.

The barista smiles a tight smile at her when she slides through the door, and Emma orders her drink and finds a place to sit, noting the delicate looking spyglass hanging in the window that Killian had been talking excitedly about for weeks when he'd finally outbid the 'little imp' who'd been vying for the thing as well.

Her skip is five minutes early, and Emma is _not_ disappointed, not even slightly. She goes through the motions, trying very hard not to crane her neck in search of the erstwhile owner while her date gets creepier and creepier, but he never shows, and after prolonging for a while Emma drops the bomb on her idiotic bail jumper, who is so dumb he doesn't even have a chance to make a run for it before she's slapping the cuffs on his wrists.

She goes by the next day under the guise of apologizing for making a scene, but Killian isn't there that day, or the next, or the next.

She tells herself it's better this way - Killian's got a life, and really, what was she hoping was going to happen after avoiding him for almost a month?

It's better this way. She knows it is. But then, why does she feel like she's losing something she never even had?

\------ 

The coffee shop isn't very close to her house, but it is between the bail bonds office and home, and so when she stops into the market a few blocks away from Bean, on a quest for an edible dinner that didn't include pizza rolls or Hot Pockets, she realizes very quickly what a mistake that had been.

She's eyeing the apple display with distaste, trying to convince herself she _needs_ fruit in her life, when she chances a glance up across the produce section to see a very familiar head of hair. His body is turned away from her, and he seems to be gesturing vaguely with his good hand, talking to the person standing next to him about what could possibly be mangoes.

Her heart skips a beat in her chest, and it takes her almost no time at all to set down the apple and head towards him, because _fuck it_ , she misses him, and it had been stupid to avoid him.

She's halfway to him when she notices the woman next to him place a delicate hand on his arm, smiling charmingly as she leans into him to whisper something in his ear. Alarm bells go off immediately, and Emma pauses, staring for a second. They are familiar with each other in a way Emma understands, in a way she's seen _plenty_ of times before, and she is completely unprepared for the rush of jealousy that hits her when Killian's laugh echoes across the store. 

Too slow, she makes an aborted move to back away, but Killian's head swivels just as she is turning, and he catches her gaze, his brow furrowing as he catches sight of her.

"Swan?"

Shit. Shit shit _shit_. 

She glares hard at the lemons in her basket as she makes her way towards him.

"Hey," she says when she reaches him, trying hard not to do the full judgmental once over of his companion, and Killian's smile is a little tight as he takes her in. 

"Emma, this is my - this is Milah. Milah, darling, this is the woman I told you about, the bond enforcement agent who's brought so much color to my boring old coffee shop."

Emma waves at the woman in question, taking a good look at her, pursed lips and luscious dark hair curled around her shoulders, and good god are her eyes really that _blue_? How is that fair. "Charmed," she parses out, looking anything but. "Tell me, how many other women do you know who work as bounty hunters?"

"More than you'd think," Emma says instead of grinding her teeth, eyes darting to the perfectly manicured fingernails still curled comfortably around Killian's elbow. "It's been a while. How are you?" The question seems to take Killian by surprise, his eyes going wide as he blinks owlishly at her.

"I've - well its been - I finally got my spyglass," he tells her, and Emma nods. 

"Yeah, I saw it on display. It's, what, eighteenth century?"

His gaze brightens, his grin coming to the surface as he nods. "Yes, it's rumored to have belonged to -."

"Oh, not this pirate history nonsense again," the woman, Milah, says, and Killian bites back a frown, shooting her a strange look. Emma wants to throttle her - there is nothing she loves more than people with passionate interests, and Killian _loves_ that pirate nonsense. If Milah is really _his_ Milah, Emma can't imagine why.

"Well, hey, I don't want to keep you guys. Maybe you could tell me about it some other time? I'm dying for a good hot chocolate."

The look Killian shoots her is a mixture of confusion and excitement as Milah actually _rolls her eyes_ at him. "Of course, if you've got the time," he says, and god, something in Emma's heart clenches at the sight of him. 

"I'll be sure to drop by sometime soon."

"That would be lovely."

Everything about this encounter has been stilted and awkward, and Emma beats a hasty retreat without bothering to say goodbye to Milah, heart hammering in her chest and something suspiciously like tears in her eyes, and as she rounds the corner away from them she hears the low murmur of Milah's voice, followed by a deep chuckle from Killian.

She ends up buying the lemons, two cartons of ice cream, a box of Ritz crackers and a bottle of Malbec, and rather than try to ignore the fact that she'd gone and gotten herself a crush on the man and ruined it before she even tried at it, she lets herself feel the full rush of her disappointment, drinking half the bottle in her first episode of Buffy, and finishing it and one full carton of ice cream off by the end of the third.

She calls Mary Margaret, who seems to appear as if by magic only minutes later (it's almost an hour, in reality, but sad Emma is not the best with time), and who gives her a hug so motherly Emma finally actually bursts into tears, admitting to the woman that she's pretty sure she's too fucked up to function like a normal human being - she breaks everything she touches.

David appears twenty minutes later with a pizza, a box of Kleenex, and the complete collection of the MCU movies, immediately veto-ing any more Buffy (she went straight to season six, because pain), and the two end up falling asleep on either side of her midway through Iron Man 2. 

They're good people, the Nolan's. She's grateful for that.

\------

She resolves to keep her promise to stop by, and even to tolerate Milah, if necessary, so after a few days of moping she heads over to the shop, reminding herself as she pushes through the door that _they can still be friends_.

Only Killian is mysteriously missing, and Milah is running the bar.

She catches sight of Emma before Emma can even attempt an escape, and there is a strange curl to her lip as she shoots a greeting towards the door.

Emma sighs as she trudges up to the counter, feeling like she's being studied under a microscope as Milah's eyes follow her across the room. "Killian's not here today," she says in that clipped accent of hers, and she wonders how long they've known each other - Killian moved to the states more than ten years ago, she knows, and though they'd never really gotten too far into tragic backstory she'd always kind of assumed there was a woman involved.

"Okay. That's...fine. I'll just have..." she pauses, with no idea what to say, because she's never actually ordered anything off the menu - if she's not in the mood for hot chocolate Killian always just makes her something.

"I'm well aware of what you'll have," the woman says, and Emma actually reels back at her tone. 

"Excuse me?"

"Killian is not a piece of meat for you to chew until you're bored and spit out." Emma's brow furrows, because this is definitely not a conversation she'd expected to have with the woman. 

"I...what?"

"He's not had the easiest time of it, you know. I suppose I'm to blame for a large portion of that, but regardless, the man hasn't had it easy, and he really liked you. I never heard the end of it, Swan this and Swan that and 'Milah how strange would it be if I ordered swan mugs', and of course the bloody idiot didn't listen to me because _here they are_ ," she holds one up, and Emma blinks at the woman who has been angrily making a hot chocolate throughout her whole speech.

"...wait, what?" Emma asks, feeling particularly stupid, because she'd thought Milah was...

"Oh, _God_ , I'm trying to berate you for leading my ex on, keep up, woman," Milah says, like it's obvious, and this has been _so not_ obvious. 

"Killian is..."

"I'm not going to bore you with our whole sordid relationship. It was awful and we make much better friends, but I know full well how fiercely devoted that man is and I'm very annoyed with you, Emma Swan, so unless you mean to make up for it I'd really much prefer it if you never came back."

Christ, the woman is like a pit bull, but Emma...Emma can respect that. 

"So. I'm going to give you this cocoa to go, which, by the way, Killian calls "The Swan's Fancy" on his secret menu because he is a _literal_ tool, and you're going to walk out of this store, and if you ever come back without every intention of letting that stupid man take you out on a proper date that, knowing him will include flowers and wine and possibly fireworks, I'll throttle you senseless. Do we understand each other?"

There are about a million things Emma wants to say, and even more things she'd like to do to Milah, who has one hand on her hip and a glare so intense Emma honestly wants to offer her a job at the office, but instead Emma nods softly and turns to go.

She's halfway down the street, her mind whirring with this overload of new information, when she bothers to take a sip of her drink, and immediately curses Milah's name to the high heavens, because damn it, it's just as good as Killian makes it.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song referenced later in this fic is [this version ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZcJRw5Gs88)of the titular song. 
> 
> ENJOY YOUR NERDY PIRATE OBSESSED PUPPY.

When Emma aged out of the foster system, she spent a few months sleeping on park benches and being shooed away from storefronts by suspicious officers of the law. She'd started stealing things because policemen pissed her off, and honestly when Neal had given her the opportunity to steal _twenty thousand dollars_ worth of watches out from under the nose of the law, she'd practically jumped at the chance.

Needless to say her relationship with the law had never really gotten better. It was why she'd gone into bond enforcement, a great big middle finger to the idiots who couldn't keep the men they arrested behind bars. 

She'd _stayed_ in the job because she was good, and it paid the bills far better than anything else she might be able to do without a high school diploma.

She'd stayed in Boston because of David and Mary Margaret, and right at the moment she's really beginning to regret that decision. 

"You shouldn't sit on it, Emma. If Milah was telling you even a small sliver of the truth you should go _right now_. It's been two days already." Mary Margaret nods her head like her point is proven, and David frowns next to her, tapping his fingers across his desk while Emma stares at the ceiling from her chair, tipped back on two legs and god is she glad Mary Margaret isn't the sort of person to take advantage of things like this, because she has _no balance whatsoever_ at the moment. Her mind has been a whirring mess of will-she won't-she's since she left the Bean, and she should be closer to actually making a decision, but its all hitting her hard how very quickly this could become _Serious_ with a capital S and all - she's not good at fast, but fast always seems to happen to her anyway, and she _likes_ Killian. A lot. He's sweet and kind and genuine and he plays the scoundrel quite well, he's clever and charming but most importantly he's always understood her on a level no one else has ever come close to.

That scares her more than the other things.

"I think you should just find another coffee shop and forget about it," David says, staring at his desk with a bit of a challenge to his voice, and Emma rolls her eyes, because David likes nothing more than being devil's advocate. Mary Margaret rises to the bait, and Emma lets them argue it out until they lose steam.

David gets the final word in, which will definitely grate on Mary Margaret for some time to come. "It's all up to Emma, anyway. She'll do what makes her happy."

Emma mulls that over as they all move out of David's office and back towards the lobby - will she do what makes her happy? She's not sure. She's prone to do what makes her feel _safe_ , and yeah, that works for her, but safe...safe isn't always the best way out. Even she can admit to that.

Damn it.

She's resolving herself to head to the Bean when Ariel comes sprinting down the hallway, a wide-eyed grin on her face.

"Emma! Heeey. There is someone here to see you. I think he said his name is Killian?"

David and Mary Margaret both peek the least sneaky looks she's ever seen around the corner, craning their necks and no doubt grabbing the attention of anyone in the lobby, and _thank god_ David never has to find skips on his own, he'd be absolutely terrible at it. Despite the ridiculous pair these two make, though, she feels her heart constrict and her face heat up at the thought of Killian sitting just a few feet away. 

She ignores her friends as they shoot _completely visible to the lobby_ thumbs up, brushing past them and swinging around the corner.

Killian stands from his seat the moment he sees her, opening his mouth to greet her, but nothing actually comes out.

They stare at each other for a few long seconds, until Killian finally breaks contact, shooting a glance down at the floor while he scratches at the back of his neck. It's a gesture she's all too familiar with, and she actually has to fight down a grin when he shuffles his feet a moment later. 

"I came to apologize for Milah," he says, darting his gaze back towards her with his head still tilted down, and of course, of course the woman had told him. "You are, of course, always welcome at the Jolly, no matter my own silly disappointments. I hope - I hope I haven't made you uncomfortable. I'd still like..." he sighs. "I'd still like for us to be friends."

"No!" she says, quickly, far too quickly if the flash of hurt across his face is anything to go by, and Emma frowns - she is _so bad_ at this. "No, I mean... I mean I don't really want to be friends."

His jaw clenches tightly, and Emma really, really wants to fall into a hole.

"I mean - no. I mean I'd like to take you up on that date you've been bugging me for."

His confused frown is followed up by a beaming smile, and it's like something falls into place behind his eyes - one moment he is beaming at her like a total goon, and the next he's crossed the room, falling into her space without preamble, his lip curving up in a smirk as he reaches up for a lock of her hair, pressing it between his fingers, and she _knew_ it. 

"If I'd known siccing a former lover on you was all it took, I'd have done it ages ago."

"That woman is scarily overprotective of you," she tells him rather than admit Milah had anything to do with it. 

His face is close enough to hers that the exhale of his laugh brushes across her nose, and his smarmy grin turns momentarily sincere. "So, this date. How many days do I have before you change your mind?"

She tilts her head up to look at him, steeling her gaze. "I'm _not_ going to change my mind."

"Fine then. Tomorrow evening?"

Her eyebrow jumps on her forehead as he smiles at her, tilting his head to the side, and it should look silly, it really should, but between the scruff and the smirk and the cut of his black button up ( four buttons undone, cuffs rolled up, his usual false arm missing today, he should feel so _vulnerable_ right now and maybe he is but he doesn't seem it) and the way his whole body is angled into her, it's possibly the hottest thing she's ever seen. _This man_. "I just told you I wasn't going to change my mind."

"Yes, but I don't want to wait. I'm an impatient man."

"Patience is a virtue, Jones," she tells him, and his eyes zero in on the corner of her mouth, which she is trying very hard not to tic up into the dimple in her cheek.

"I never claimed to be a virtuous man, Swan."

She lets the amused smile come out, her lips stretching over her teeth as she reaches up a hand to play with the collar of his shirt. He inhales sharply through his nose, eyes catching hers as her thumb accidentally slides over the hollow of his throat, and Emma shifts carefully, her whole body heating at the look he sends her. "Tomorrow night works," she tells him, feeling her own head tilt in mirror of his, and they sway into each other for a moment. 

"Excellent. How does seven at the coffee shop work?"

She lets out a bark of laughter. "Are you angling for a night that ends in you cuffed, Jones?" She only realizes her mistake when he leans _closer_ , and there had barely been any room between them to begin with, how had he gotten closer? 

"If that's something you're into, Swan, I'm sure I could be persuaded. Forcefully."

Oh god, she is in so much trouble. 

\------

Killian has her number, now, weaseled out of her right before David burst around the corner after hearing one too many of Killian's ridiculous innuendos, and she's been getting strange texts from him all day:

_  
What do you think of Concerto in D Minor?_

She has no clue, so she sends him _???_ in response, and two minutes later she gets _Bach was a hack anyway_ , which she's pretty sure isn't something he actually believes, but she'll let him have it.

The whole day is filled up with messages like that, and every time she reads one something warm digs into her chest, making her smile and sigh like a school girl. 

She takes an hour long bath, shaves her legs and doesn't let herself think about why, decides on minimal makeup and after debating it for a while shoots Killian a text about dress code.

 _Wear whatever you want, Swan, I'm sure you'll be resplendent_ he tells her, which does less than nothing to help her pick out an outfit but does make her blush quite a bit.

Eventually she decides on jeans and a blue satin blouse, and after a long debate she trades out her stupid, ridiculous heels for her favorite pair of boots. 

She leaves early, hoping the walk will calm her nerves, but instead all she can think about is how very unlike her all of this is - she is _giddy_ at the thought of spending the night getting to know Killian, of seeing what he's got up his sleeve (she's hoping Milah was kidding about the fireworks, but...it's still a possibility she's entertained). She can't stop thinking about his smile, and that stupid, dorky grin and head tilt, and she definitely can't stop thinking about the way he'd watched her with careful eyes the first week they'd met, when he asked her quite bluntly how long she'd been in the system, and god she'd been so angry for a moment but he'd had this look in his eyes, the same one she'd seen in so many foster kids her whole life, and instead of bottling up she'd told him the vague truth about her family - or lack thereof, to be more specific.

Over the months he'd wheedled bits and pieces out of her, and instead of red flags she'd grown _more_ comfortable telling him about her life. He knows quite a few of the secrets she likes to lay close to the vest, and maybe it's something she should be nervous about, but he's got a way of getting past her walls. 

She makes it to the coffee shop in record time, rolling her eyes to herself, and debates walking the block again before eventually sighing and making her way the last little bit to the Jolly Bean. 

Her face goes beet red as she passes by the window - he's got a row of the swan mugs set up in the window display next to a few of his ship-in-a-bottles, and her heart does something funny in her chest when she glances through the window to see Killian leaning against the counter of the coffee bar, gesturing wildly to one of the regulars. His hair is in a wicked disarray, as if he's been running his hands through it, and he's in dark slacks and a dark red shirt, the outfit completed with a grey waistcoat and a dangling chain with charms hanging off the end. 

God. _God_. She feels underdressed and overwhelmed and silly, and she can't keep the smile off her face as the man Killian is speaking to says something that makes him throw his head back in laughter - she knows the sound of it, booming and bright and deep, digging into her belly and making her _want_. 

The bell over the door chimes as she pushes through it, and the two men at the counter both glance up. 

Her breath catches in her throat as she catches Killian's eyes, and like the ridiculous cliché this whole thing is it's as though the world fades out for a moment, it's just Emma and Killian smiling like the actual losers they are. 

The man beside him, Robin, she thinks his name is, coughs loudly, breaking the spell, and claps Killian on the shoulder, nodding his head at Emma as he makes a break for it, and Emma can't help the smile on her face as she princess waves at Killian like an absolute _nerd_.

"I'm a little early," she says, and he blinks like he's having trouble understanding words, and god, does she get that. 

"No, it's fine, just give me a second to - Just one second," he says, and whips his whole body away from her, taking a few steps before he turns back. "You look lovely," he tells her, and then backs into his espresso machine, letting out a string of curses that would make a sailor blush before he turns away, stomping off behind the swinging metal door that leads into the back. 

Her own butterflies settle in her stomach at his obvious nervousness, and Emma sighs as she waits for him to return.

\------

He takes her up onto the roof, and she absolutely does not enjoy the muffled groan he makes when she takes the stairs ahead of him, and she definitely does not add an extra sway to her hips, no sir. 

He slides in front of her at the door to the roof, carefully grabbing a hefty looking brick to prop it open as he lets it swing wide, and once again, Emma feels a bit breathless as she takes it in. It's still light out, even this late in the summer, the sun spinning towards the horizon, and everything is cast in a dim, rosy glow, but if that weren't enough, he's set up a table off to one side with a gorgeous view of the cityscape, and strung up fairy-lights all around - there's a couch set up along the far side of the roof, and when she shoots him a look he scratches behind his ear. 

"I own the whole building," he tells her. "Milah helped with setting everything up."

She can picture the whole thing, Killian and Milah snapping at each other the whole time, her judging look when he asked her to move the table for the twelfth time, his protest when she threw out another "bloody _idiot_ comment. 

"I live downstairs," he tells her, and blanches a moment later. "Not that - not that you care where I live, that was incredibly presumptuous of me. I just meant-."

"Jones, seriously, cool your jets. It's fine. It looks...really nice."

He blushes, shuffling his feet, and she bumps his shoulder. "Although the couch is a little presumptuous, if you're looking for criticism."

His grin is wide and full of teeth. "I'm an optimist, Swan."

"An _opportunist_ maybe," she tells him, and the awkwardness seems to melt away as he lays a hand at the small of her back to lead her over to the table, where a bottle of wine is chilling next to a plate of chocolate strawberries. 

She starts when his voice echoes right next to her ear - he's leaning into her, and she can feel the grin curl around her earlobe as he whispers. "I promise I've saved the fireworks for a second date."

Ignoring the shiver at his words, she smiles bright and wide as he sweeps out her chair for her, ever the gentleman. "You're pretty sure of yourself, already planning out second dates?"

"I can be quite charming when I need to," he tells her, his hand drifting across her hair as he slides around her to his own seat.

She laughs when he yanks out a cooler from under the table, proudly showing her the George Foreman set up beside the table as he informs her they're having _grilled cheese_ , and her heart aches a bit as she smiles, her eyes a little watery when he turns away to put an absolutely disgusting amount of butter on the slices of bread he's preparing. 

(She'd told him once about how much she'd loved summer nights at a particular foster home when she was fourteen, how they'd made grilled cheese and tomato soup while the adults were gone, and climbed through the window onto the roof to stare at the stars, how she'd had her first kiss with one of the neighbor boys her foster brother was friends with. This _man_ , this glorious, stupidly romantic man, is going to ruin her for all other men. Maybe that's the point.)

Conversation comes easy, and if she notices him scooting his chair closer to her around the edge of the table she doesn't mention it, enjoying the cool breeze drifting across the roof. He can't keep his eyes off of her, and she's not much better, memorizing the way the shadows fall across the planes of his face as the sun falls over the horizon. He tells her about his brother Liam with a distant smile on his face, and, knowing how difficult the tale is she distracts him with stories of her Bonnie and Clyde act with Neal, all those years ago - he laughs when he tells her she's got a bit of pirate in her, and despite his curiosity he doesn't push the Neal backstory.

It's the best date she's had in...ever, really, and as she finishes her last glass of wine, curled onto the couch beside Killian, her legs crossed under her as he teaches her a fairly bawdy game of pirate dice, she doesn't want the night to end.

He'd set up speakers a while earlier, fiddling with an iPod for a second before some slow, melodious tunes drifted across the night, and for the most part they've just been background noise, but he perks up while Emma is focusing very carefully on getting the numbers she needs to soundly trounce Killian once and for all, and even as she tosses them into the space between them and hoots triumphantly, she glances up to see him staring at her.

The melody sliding across the roof is soft and sweet, and it takes Emma a moment to recognize it, but when she does she shoots him a sharp, knowing look.

"Fancy a dance, Swan?"

She's had enough wine to feel the warm buzz of attraction shift between them, and she takes his hand without hesitation, laughing brightly when they both stumble over one of the numerous extension cords, but a moment later he's got her pressed up against him, his arm sliding around her back as their fingers twine together - her breathe escapes her lungs in a rush as he sends her a far too serious look across the scant space between them. 

He's a good lead, swinging her around a bit rather than just spinning in place, and she lets herself get swept into it, never quite breaking his heady gaze. The song ends, but they continue to sway for a while longer, and Emma's disbelief in the fact that this man is even remotely real seem to settle comfortably in her ribs. 

When they finally slow to a stop, he moves to back away, but Emma snakes a hand out for the collar of his shirt, and he falls into the kiss without protest.

(She thinks maybe he was lying about saving the fireworks for later, but she's too busy trying to curl herself into him to tell him, and besides, the way he sways back into her with every breath they take is enough for her)

He sighs into her hair when she finally comes up for air, his hand still curled around the bottom of her skull, her thumb tracing a path across his jawline that sends a visible chill up his spine, and he can't seem to look away from her, pressing his forehead into her own. 

"That was..."

"Hmm," she replies, and she feels his cheeks curl up under her fingers. 

She drags him back onto the couch with her, and doesn't bother to be coy as she clambers up into his lap to resume her new favorite pastime, cataloguing every groan and sign, making a point to remember the way he presses into her when she fists the hair at the back of his neck, and the way his breath puffs out of his nose when she curls her tongue into his. 

The kiss slows into something heady and quiet, and Emma can feel herself drifting off, a bit, her closed eyes falling heavily until Killian finally chuckles into her ear. "I know I'm out of practice, Swan, but falling asleep on me? Now that's just insulting."

He's smiling when she blinks up at him, and he brushes some hair back behind her ear as he ducks to press a soft kiss to the tip of her nose. "I guess you'll have to wait to find out about my handcuff preferences."

"I shall await such knowledge with bated breath." He grins softly. "Would you like me to drive you home?"

After a terribly long pause, she lets her fingers drift through the downy hair left uncovered, and shoots a glance up at him through what she hopes aren't overly doe-y eyes. "Is it gonna be really weird if I ask you to let me stay here tonight? No funny business."

He groans, low in his throat, but his smile doesn't waver as he presses a long-suffering kiss against her forehead. "You're lucky I like you, Swan," he tells her, already standing. "Let me pick up a bit. Try not to fall asleep while I'm gone."

He's halfway across the roof, tidying up dishes and unplugging strings of lights, when she tilts her head to look at him, unable to keep the small grin off her face. "Killian," she says, and he darts a look up at her, no doubt fully aware of the significance of the name drop. "I like you too."

He curses quietly to the heavens, muttering something about women driving him absolutely _mad_ , and she falls asleep on the couch to the sound of him moving quietly about, barely waking when he hefts her up into his arms. 

She wakes to a hot chocolate steaming on the bedside table next to her, and she doesn't even feel a little bit bad about sneaking up on Killian a few minutes later, snaking her arms around him while he hums quietly, pressing a kiss into his shoulder as he flips pancakes carefully, and when he sweeps her up onto the kitchen island for a proper good morning she laughs happily, and wonders why the hell she'd waited so long to let this stupid man into her life.

He tells her over breakfast that he's found a replica of Hornigold's famous tricorn hat, and Emma has a very hard time keeping from tackling him to the floor and having her wicked way with him.

Not that he'd mind. But she's saving that for sometime after the third date.


	3. Epilogue

She sees the moment the man recognizes her, something clicking behind his eyes as he takes her in - the tight red dress, the heels, the half-braid curling around the back of her neck, none of it are quite enough for him to _not_ remember her breaking down his door a week ago and chasing him through his apartment and down three city blocks before he'd lost her, and _damn it_ , she'd really been hoping she could just call this one in.

He holds eye contact for a long moment, setting his drink neatly down on the bar.

And then he bolts.

Emma is after him a moment later, cursing her ridiculous heels and the kismet that had put him at this bar on tonight, of all nights.

She's halfway across the parking lot, whipping her hair up out of her face as she chases after another errant skip, when she realizes there are footsteps pounding the pavement behind her, and she sighs to herself, knowing this is a battle she won't be able to win. 

"Killian, seriously?"

"I'm getting an insiders perspective of your career, love!" He shoots back, neither of them slowing their pace as they reach the sidewalk. Her bail jumper has made a clear path for them - he's overturned a produce stand and knocked a hotdog cart askew in his attempts to escape her, and if there is one thing Emma hates more than an elusive skip it is a destructive elusive skip. 

"Please tell me we didn't just dine and ditch to chase after a criminal?"

"Left my wallet!" he calls back, and Emma sighs. This man is ridiculous. 

They get two more blocks before Emma catches sight of him, hurtling to his right, directly towards a park she can guarantee she knows better than him, and she shoots Killian a look over her shoulder. "If you're dumb enough to follow me, you better be quick enough to help me catch this asshole."

"The man interrupted our date, Swan, believe me, I'd like nothing more."

(And it had been a good one too, hands clasped together as they walked the brightly lit city streets, his voice in her ear as he told her a fairly ridiculous story about the shenanigans Grace O'Malley had gotten up to - the way he said her name lilting beautiful across the night air, Grainne O'Malley, his very favorite pirate, and she is so incredibly not surprised by this little detail - his deep bright gaze when he turned to look at her and the streetlights hit his face just perfectly, catching his enthusiasm and his lopsided smile. The restaurant he'd charmed his way into without a reservation, getting them a table with a wink and a smirk, prying out details of Neal without ever really seeming to push at it - damn her stupid job and damn this horrible, awful criminal for ruining it.)

They split off at the entrance to the park, and with a put-upon sigh Emma tosses off her shoes - there's no way she's getting through grass in those things. She keeps her eyes peeled for her little runaway - the idiot didn't seem to know that he'd just stranded himself on a tiny stretch of land butted up by a dead end alleyway, a river, and a lake, and it doesn't take her long to spot him, still jogging away from her - straight towards the bank of the lake, which. No. She is _not_ going swimming tonight.

She picks up speed, rushing straight at him, and they go down together in a tangle of limbs, rolling a few feet closer to the shoreline before coming to a stop - the man struggles to free himself of her, aiming to drive an elbow into her stomach, but Emma ducks and rolls away from him, digging into her bag for the stun gun she knows is in there - this guy definitely deserves the stun gun. 

Killian reaches them just in time to see the man go down in a flop of limbs, mouth agape as he glances at Emma, and she can't help the grin that splits across her face.

There's something heated in the look Killian sends her as she zipties the man's hands together, hauling him to his feet while he groans and staggers, and she's half tempted to just leave her skip behind and drag Killian off into the bushes so he can follow through on some of those promises in his gaze, but Killian is already offering to pull the car around, and despite the fact that she _should_ be off the clock she is _sometimes_ a professional. She can't fight back the smile when she sees Killian detour to collect her shoes - her knight in shining armor.

It's late when they finally retrieve Killian's wallet from the restaurant, after Emma has dropped off her fugitive at the booking office at the local station (Officer O'Leary whistles when he sees her dress, but she just rolls her eyes and lets it be), the hostess leaning over the counter to bat her lashes and offer him the food she'd had bagged up for him, shooting Emma a strangely admiring look when Killian doesn't even seem to notice the heavy flirting. As they head back, the adrenaline begins to fade - for Emma, at least.

Killian is fidgety and quiet as she pulls into the alleyway adjacent to his building, and he fairly bursts through his own car door, swinging around to open her own before she's even managed to collect her purse.

The side door to the coffee shop is propped open, light pouring out and some rousing aria rolling out the door. Milah is inside, wiping down tables and stacking chairs, and she raises an eyebrow as Killian comes _bounding_ through the door.

Milah is apparently as least a semi-permanent fixture at the coffeehouse now - in the midst of a messy divorce and desperate to get away she'd ended up in Killian's unleased extra apartment, because Killian is just that kind of guy (there is a part of their history there that she's missing, she knows, most likely something to do with the soon-to-be ex-husband, but she doesn't ask). It should be weird, but it's clear to Emma that there are no latent feelings harbored between them, and honestly, she kind of likes Milah.

(Milah is still warming up to her, but Emma knows she'll win her over. Eventually. Possibly through bribery.)

"You're back late," she says, and Emma is all ready to tell her about their awful date, but Killian _beams_.

"Milah, I'm signing off the business to you and going to my real calling. I want to be a bailbondsman."

"Good _lord_ what have you done to him?" she aims at Emma, who is having a mild case of adoration rush over her and barely hears it. She'd thought the date was a bust, but Killian may in fact think it was the best part of his night. What an adorable dork she's found for herself.

"Emma captured a fugitive from the law tonight. She was bloody _brilliant. Amazing. And I need a stun gun."_

_"You are _definitely_ not getting a stun gun," Milah tells him, hand on hip as she stares him down._

_"But -."_

_"No."_

_" _Swan_ ," he all but whines, shooting her a wide-eyed, pleading gaze._

_"No, I'm with Milah on this. Besides, aren't you Brits more the fisticuffs type?"_

_"Oh, he's terrified of weaponry unless it dates back a few centuries, don't worry." Killian shoots them both annoyed looks. "There's a shipment in the back for you, Killian," she finally says at the beginnings of a pout on his lip. "I wasn't sure if I was supposed to open it. I thought perhaps it might be those fireworks you've been waiting on." She says it jokingly, her eyes glittering with mirth, and he shoots her an incredibly inappropriate hand gesture as he stalks off for the package._

_Emma and Milah stare at each other in awkward silence for a moment._

_"I don't suppose we can really stop him from traipsing after you constantly now he's got his first taste of it," she finally mutters to Emma, tossing the towel in her hand idly._

_"Probably not."_

_She watches Emma carefully for a moment, mulling over her next words. She chews on the inside of her cheek, a habit she seems to share with Killian, and then finally sighs. "I've seen that man smile more in the last month than I have for most of the past ten years. That's... well. I appreciate that."_

_Emma sends her a conspiratorial grin. "You're warming up to me."_

_"That doesn't mean I won't eviscerate you if you break his heart." She eyes Emma's gulp with a satisfied smile. "But yes, I may, on occasion, find you to be less annoying than I used to."_

_"Such high praise."_

_"Don't test me." She's hiding a smile as she says it, and Emma feels a little giddy at the idea of Milah being friendly. (She doesn't have many friends, and David and Mary Margaret are great, but sometimes she thinks it might be nice to have someone around who wasn't smotheringly sweet. She may have a little bit of a girl crush.)_

_Killian returns with an overly secretive smile on his face, bidding Milah a good night as he holds out a hand for Emma, and Milah is still attempting to hide her curving lips as they say goodnight and head up the stairs. She's still thinking about the night, about Killian and the fact that far from being put off by her line of work he seems to have had a fantastic time, about the way he'd had to work hard to keep the grin off his face every time she'd introduced him at the station as "Her...Killian" because she didn't know what to call him yet._

_The door is barely closed behind her when he leans into her, her back smacking against the thing as he sends her another one of those dark, sexy looks that she's been thinking about for most of the night. " _Swan_ ," he says, and this is as far from a whine as she's ever heard him, serious and tinging on desperate and _jesus_. The breath leaves her lungs in a rush, and he presses her into the door as he ducks in for a kiss, hips digging into hers as his hand tangles in her hair, she can feel him hot and heavy against her thigh - her legs feel weak, her heart is thumping so hard in her chest it may actually break free of her ribs - he groans when she bites at his lip, and her head thumps against the door when he presses into her again - she would laugh if she wasn't trying desperately to yank his shirt up over his head. _

_They end up curled together on the floor in front of his door, breathless and at least partially sated, Killian nuzzling at her hair while they both try to regain some sense of motor function - they freeze when Milah's footsteps echo up the stairs and past his door, breaking into a fit of giggles once her door slams firmly shut behind her._

_She's still laughing when he thumbs at her chin, her gaze darting up to meet his, and the soft kiss he presses to her lips makes her sigh as she makes a valiant attempt to get _closer_ to him - legs tangled together, chests pressed against one another, his left arm pillowing her head, it's _impossible_ but she just wants to curl into him and never come out. _

_It hits her in a rush, this feeling she's feeling, and she waits for the inevitable sick, crushing desire to run._

_It doesn't come._

_Instead her fingers continue to drum out a rhythm against his chest, sliding through the hair there as she holds his steady gaze._

_He smiles like he knows what she's thinking, but she wants to tell him anyway. Maybe it'll wipe that smug look off his face._

_"Don't," he tells her when she opens her mouth, his gaze still adoring and happy. "Tell me tomorrow."_

_"But-."_

_His eyes are drifting closed, and she knows it's an absolutely terrible idea to let it happen - they're going to wake up freezing and full of aches and pains, but she doesn't want to leave the circle of his arms, just yet, and as his breathing slows she feels her own lids drooping._

_\------_

_They wobble on sore legs, both of them with cricks in their necks, to his clawed bathtub the next morning, turning the water up so hot its scalding, and she grins at him over her shoulder while he's scrubbing her back._

_"I love you," she says, and he smiles bright and wide and happy. Her chest aches, but it's a good ache - like the kind Killian has been massaging out of her lower back for the last ten minutes._

_"I know lass," he tells her on a grin, pressing a kiss into her shoulder as she swats bubbles at him._

_They nearly flood the bathroom with the ensuing wrestling match, and it's a close thing they don't both crack their heads open on the floor in the mad dash for Killian's bed. She'll have a nasty bruise on her hip from sliding into the sink, but she can't say she really minds, all that much._


End file.
